Attack of the Plotbunnies
by Ceriadara
Summary: A collection of drabbles, tearjerkers, and crackfics all sprung from the demented little plot bunnies that live inside my head. Yaoi, several pairings. Yes, I do requests.
1. Dance

**_I: Dance_**

_By: Ceriadara_

**-:-:-:-**

Kon Rei was engaged in a dance.

Some would say that it was more a battle than graceful sweeps of movement across a floor. Others would say that it was more like a war, a fight on a much, much larger scale. Some would say that it was something in which one clawed for sanity. All of the people, no matter their opinions, would, however, agree on one thing: it was deadly.

Rei loved it.

It was, to him, a dance. A complicated one, yes, but it intrigued him and enraptured him to no end. He knew that yes, he may have sometimes ventured into forbidden territory because of the gentle rhythmic movements, but he always ended up with the right steps again. It was intoxicating, enticing him closer and closer until it grabbed at him and refused to let go.

It is common knowledge that most dancing requires another body to dance with, also known as a "partner". Rei was never one for flying solo, and he did not exactly have the most vast selection of candidates to choose from. Still, as far as choices went, his choice of partner was obvious. It was his partner that made the dance so dangerous, so breathtaking, so intoxicating. His partner, his partner's life, everything about him.

**-:-:-:-**

Hiwatari Kai was never particularly good at dancing.

That wasn't to say that he was bad; he was, after all, a Hiwatari, and Hiwataris were not _bad_ at anything save showing emotions. He just held no particular fondness for it.

There were different kinds of dances, he knew. Waltz, foxtrot, tango, merengue, salsa, jigs, even the odd dance that he had once seen Yuiry perform at a nightclub...he knew them all (save the last one, for it looked a bit too...intimate for the aloof Hiwatari Kai) and he knew them by heart. But this dance...this one particular dance that he found himself drawn into was not a dance he could simply perform by shuffling his feet in a certain pattern. No, this dance was far more precise and delicate an operation.

It was...not exactly a dance, per se. Avoidance yet acceptance, annoyance yet slight friendliness, stolen smiles and quiet walks, gentle conversation where one word spoke enough for them both, them being him and his...his partner.

Yes.

That was a good word.

Partner.

But still...when it came right down to it...friend was better...

But lover...was the all-around best.

**-:-:-:-**

_A/N O.o No idea where this came from, so don't even ask. I know that I should be at least trying to update, so please forgive me. This is just where I'll go when the evil plot bunnies won't stop besieging my mind, so there may be anything from drabbles to (attempted) tearjerkers to crackfics in here. Be prepared for anything...-hums the Cardcaptors theme song- Dammit._

_Review, please!_

_- Ceriadara_


	2. Enough

**II: Enough**

_By: Ceriadara_

**-:-:-:-**

Yuriy meant the entire world to him.

He had been raised in a manner that was radically different from most children's upbringing, even those who were also in the Abbey. He had had to learn to survive on the dirty, cold streets of Moscow first, where his entire world was his survival. He had been anything he could be to steal money - a pickpocket, a regular thief, a spy, a lookout, a scout, anything that would get him some rubles by the end of the day. He had never had any desire to either go to an orphanage or attempt to earn the money, for that was simply not how he operated. Not now, not then.

Then...then, one day, he had picked the wrong pocket and been caught by one man named Boris Balcov. Even at the tender age of six, Boris could sense the aura of malice radiating from the older man who shared his name. Even as he pretended to be kind, put up the facade of the kindly orphanage director, Boris could still sense the hatred and darkness coming from the depths of the man's dark eyes. The evil man had brought him to the Abbey - home of stone and cold - and fear. Lots of fear.

Staying alive had been his world there, at least until he turned thirteen. Dodging the right guards, stealing more food, nicking shower tokens, anything that would give him one more day..._just one more day, please, oh please..._

And then he had turned thirteen and for the first time two things had been his world. Those two things were simply identified: one was his beloved bitbeast, Falborg; and the other was...was simply Yuriy. His captain, his slender, petite, redheaded, hot-tempered captain who had a tongue of flame and the martial arts training to back it up. He spoke with utmost confidence in himself and in his actions, and Boris subconsciously sought to imitate the younger boy in that aspect.

The World Championship against the Bladebreakers had come and gone, leaving one member hospitalized and Boris institutionalized. Yuriy came to visit him whenever Balcov would allow, and he tried to hide the wounds inflicted by the older man. He was never very successful, Bryan always being far more skillful at concealing and secreting. Boris had found out the truth, how the BBA had yet to penetrate Balcov's legal safeguard, allowing their childhood tormentor the leeway to successfully "punish" all of the Blitzkreig Boys he could lay his hands on.

The institution had a breakout that night.

Balcov's lawyers were never seen or heard from again.

The BBA broke through and freed the Abbey children.

And Boris became an escapee, a murderer, and a savior all in one night.

And so he let Falborg slip down on his "world" list. Now there was only one thing that meant the world to him once more, and he had realized it long ago, while he was still locked up, during the first time he had ever seen his captain cry. He had realized that if it was Sergei or Ivan, he wouldn't care nearly as much - that he would be pissed, yes, but not...

He had killed to save him, and him alone.

That was enough to tell him that Yuriy was the only thing in the world that truly mattered to him.

It was enough.

**-:-:-:-**

_A/N Pardon the crappily written drabble. What can I say to defend myself?_

_The plot bunnies made me do it._

_Review and make my day, please!_


	3. Forgiveness

**III: Forgiveness**

_By: Ceriadara_

**-:-:-:-**

Forgiveness was something key to every relationship, Rei mused one morning as he scrubbed the dishes, his hands wrinkled slightly after only just five minutes. His fingers were covered in bubbles filled with rainbows that gleamed as they were struck by the late morning sunlight that crept like ivy through the small, square window above the sink. The tap running, along with the familiar feel of the sponge and the gentle circling motions of his hands were enough to lull him into a sense of security, allowing his body to run on autopilot and his mind to wander.

His mind, inevitably, of course, had decided to latch onto the one topic he had been determined to avoid, at least until noon. The appointed time was still a good hour and forty-five minutes away, but his rather rebellious brain had insisted upon working upon the subject since ten o'clock and it was showing no signs of letting him wander off on a tangent anytime soon, either. So he sighed, resigning himself to the fact that unless he stopped attempting to avoid the topic it would never be solved.

He always came to that realization. Every time it happened.

And so he thought of forgiveness. Of the forgiveness he needed_, wanted,_ to give, later that night, when his lover returned home from work. He would be tired - he was working his way through the BBA rankings very fast, going from senior manager of forgein affairs to manager of the new international tournament in less than a month. He would be stressed - sorting out the champions from the mud, annoyed because of slacking employees, upset that someone had missed a deadling...the list never seemed to end.

But Rei knew that the conflict would be resolved, for a strange idiosyncracy that both of them shared was the inability to sleep when believing that the other was still angry with him.

He would make something nice for dinner, then. Lasanga, he mused, would be good. It was their favorite dish, after all, ever since that first trip to Italy. Nothing romantic - he wasn't exactly a gushy fangirl himself, and his lover was an avid anti-romantic. He still was romantic, but in his own hard, cold way.

He began to make a mental list of things he would need for dinner tonight, all the while knowing that he had succeeded in putting off directly thinking about the argument for just...a...little..._longer..._

**-:-:-:-**

Rei had just slid the lasanga onto his lover's plate with a clink of silverware against china when he heard a key turn in the lock. The door opened with nary a creak and was closed just as silently. There was a very faint thump - shoes being kicked off, Rei knew - and then footsteps on the wood floor. Rei turned toward the doorway as the tall, familiar frame appeared.

Platinum hair was as messy as it had been ten years ago when they had first seen each other, though the slim lavender eyes were much warmer than anyone had said they could ever be. Pale skin, which still refused to tan despite five years in Japan, encased a slender, six-foot-five frame that towered over Rei's petite five-foot-five. A black coat hung around slim shoulders, unbuttoned to show a slightly messed up white dress shirt, the first two buttons undone. Neatly creased black pants hung off of slender hips in the way that only he could pull off.

"Boris," Rei greeted, nodding. A stiff nod was his return greeting, the black coat shrugged off and onto the hanger inside the hall closet.

"You made lasanga," said the other man quietly, breaking the not-quite-uncomfortable silence.

"Yeah," Rei said. "You're hungry?"

"Starving," replied Boris in earnest as he sat at the table, and for a moment Rei thought that the whole ordeal would be forgotten until he noticed the still stiff air in the room. He bit back a sigh and also took a seat beside his lover.

The clinking of silverware against white china plates was the only noise for all of five minute before Boris finally gave a long, heart sigh and shifted in his chair to face Rei. The Chinese man turned as well, facing his Russian partner with apprehension and more than a bit of nervousness.

"...Rei..." he said softly after a few minutes, and Rei bit his lip. He knew that this was hard - Boris had told him how difficultit was for him to say simple things, like "I'm sorry," or "I was wrong," or even "Thank you". He laid his hand over Boris's on the table and their eyes met.

"Borya..." he whispered. "You don't have to...I understand, it's okay I for-"

And then a slender white hand was covering his mouth gently, and Boris's eyes were firm with resolve. "No. I need to say it, because you deserve to hear it. I...I was...wrong, and I'm..." Boris closed his eyes. "I'm sorry, Rei. I'm so sorry."

Rei pulled the older man close, taking in the scent of his cologne and aftershave. "I forgive you," he whispered, arms tight around the other. "I always will, Borya. Always. I promise."

_Because I love you._

**-:-:-:-**

_A/N Written for Arinsen. Thanks for making the suggestion. I actually had quite a bit of fun writing this...I think I got them both horribly out of characterm but this is my take on their "relationship", so...yeah._

_Review, please!_


	4. Melt

**IV: Melt**

_By: Ceriadara_

**-:-:-:-**

Yuriy Ivanov was never one to be soft and fluffy. He was never one to smile without good reason - smirks didn't count, as those implied malicious intent (or so he reasoned with himself). He didn't throw himself at other men (yes, he was gay, and he had cursed out and/or seriously maimed several people who had had a problem with it), nor was he even remotely attracted to anyone. That is, until he had a bout of insomnia one night which triggered _certain_ thoughts about a _certain_ person who happened to be his best friend/arch-rival, depending upon the day of the week (or the mentioned person's attitude).

Well, damn. That revelation had come as a bit of a shock.

A bit?

...And people said he _over_exaggerated.

Yuriy Ivanov was one to use common sense to reason with himself, to talk himself into (or out of) situations which he was sure were nothing but good (or trouble). And so he tried to tell himself that he _couldn't_ be attracted to_ him_, that it was a hormonal reaction, that it was just a deeper feeling of friendship.

And then the same common sense became traitor and brought into light the fact that, yes, he_ could_ be attracted to _him_, that if he had any hormones Biovolt training had driven them into a.) hiding or b.) submission, and that the feeling deeper then friendship was called _love_.

And he found that he had dug himself an even deeper, steeper hole than he had been in before, because now he "loved" him, whereas before it may have been either lust or just a crush. And now...now...

Crap.

Yuriy ran a pale hand through firey, spiked hair, pushing two slim red bangs out of his ice-blue eyes, only to have them fall back a few seconds later. He huffed, causing the strands to lift momentarily before settling again. Giving up the (obviously) futile battle, he let his hand fall to the counter to pick up the plain white coffee mug that held his magical caffiene - whoever had invented (or found) the substance should be awarded the Nobel Prize (in his oh-so-humble opinion).

He had just raised the cup to his lips when the door to his flat was slammed open and shut with equal (if not more, he mused) force. Cursing was heard from the hallway as a rustling and twin bangs echoed down the hall, signaling the dropping of a coat and the kicking off of shoes. Russian floated down the passageway, violently thrown from lips that were apparently making their way towards the kitchen.

Yuriy raised a red eyebrow elegantly, setting his cup onto the counter and keeping his gaze fixed on the doorway, wondering who exactly his visitor was. His question was answered when a figure appeared in the doorway and paused before proceeding into the kitchen. He slammed cabinets open and shut (Yuriy wincing at every loud bang), muttering darkly about "assholes who couldn't look where there going", "bastards" who should "have their liscence revoked", and "idiots who can't drive worth a shit".

"Something happen on the road, Hiwatari?" Yuriy asked, a smirk crossing his lips, which was (thankfully) hidden from the phoenix's glare by the coffee cup.

"No," said Kai sarcastically, slamming a mug onto the counter. "Whatever on earth would give you that impression, Ivanov? Everything here's just peachy."

"Alright, then," Yuriy said, purposely ignoring his friend's blatant sarcasm. "I had a pretty uneventful day as well. Must've been the weather."

Kai growled, pouring coffee so sloppily in his anger that it sloshed over the edges of the cup and onto his hands. He cursed loudly, running cool water over it from the sink. Yuriy rose to mop up the spill, surreptitiously checking on Kai's hand in the process. It wasn't badly burned (thank god), just a bit red.

"Okay, okay," the redhead conceded after a few moments of silence. "Not the best moment to taunt. I got it. So I'll take the bait and ask: what the hell happened?"

"Some bigheaded jackass decided that it would be fine to run a red light and attempt to cut me off. He might have pulled it off if he was a good driver - hell, Yuriy, _you_ could've pulled it off - "

"And that's saying something."

"My point exactly. But apparently he's a worse driver than you, possibly worse than Boris when he has road rage - "

"My god, that's possible?"

"Apparently. So he tried to do it and we ended up colliding at the red light. My poor, poor little Mustang is now a poor, poor, totalled little Mustang."

Yuriy gaped. "Idiot! Are you okay? How did you get home?"

"I'm fine, just a few cuts and bruises. I caught a ride with one of the police officers - the station is a few blocks from here. And I'm not an idiot!" Kai defended, glaring half-heartedly at Yuriy, who sighed.

"Okay...just as long as it's nothing life-threatening."

"I'm fine, _Mother_," Kai teased, leaping lightly out of the way as Yuriy's fist came out to meet him, smirking. "Do we have any more coffee?"

"Yes."

"...Please, Yuriy?"

Yuriy huffed. "Kai."

"Yes?"

"How many years have you lived here now?"

"..."

"Five. And you still don't know how to operate our coffee machine?"

"...No. You know that."

"I know. I just like making fun of you."

Kai growled and shoved Yuriy up against the counter. "I _don't _like you making fun of me."

Normally, Yuriy would have had plently of comebacks - but given the rather...compromising...position he found himself in, he was a bit hard-pressed for words. He was shoved against the counter, hands pinned down onto the cool marble edge, hips ever-so-lightly grazing Kai's, close enough to feel his breath on his face. So he fell silent, content to say nothing and enjoy the position for as long as it lasted. He expected Kai (ever the straight arrow) to realize what the position must mean to Yuriy and fall back after a couple of seconds, so he closed his eyes and waited.

And waited.

And waited...

Confused, he opened his eyes only to be met directly with Kai's startlingly crimson ones. They were darker than usual, harder, but...softer. (Well damn, there was an oxymoron if he ever heard one.)

A hand lifted up from his wrist and placed itself softly on his cheek, slender fingers (cool from the water earlier) running over his skin, his nose, his eyelashes, his forehead, his chin, his lips...

And then something else was on his mouth, something warm and soft and...gentle, something that he would never have expected from...from him.

And he hummed into the kiss and opened his mouth to Kai and realized that maybe his best friend/arch-rival/now possible-lover wasn't such a straight arrow after all. Maybe he wasn't just friendly/just an ice king. After all, if one little kiss could make Yuriy Ivanov melt...

That pretty much spoke for itself.

**-:-:-:-**

_A/N First Kai/Yuriy, also dedicated to Arinsen. Thanks once again for the suggestions! I'm not quite pleased with this one, but...meh. Whatever._

_Review, please! It makes me smile...XD I sound retarded now._


	5. I Love You

**I Love You**

_By: Ceriadara_

**-****:-:-:-**

Sometimes I want to believe what you say afterwards, as we lie there amidst the tangled sheets, our sweat-slicked bodies huddled close to one another, although we are already warm enough. I want to believe the sweet nothings that I find whispered into my ear, sent into my mind like little lights into the darkness. As your fingers brush against the small of my back, as they play with the tips of my hair, you tell me so many things...so many lies, all lies, I know.

What you feel is lust.

I want to believe so badly that I wish I could actually fool myself, make myself naieve once more. I wish that I could magically go back to a time when I did not posess the knowledge of our relationship that I do now. I wish I had not insisted on learning your language because you already knew mine and it "wasn't fair". You had smiled at that, I knew, but you hid it behind your book.

But no, I had to go and learn it and then I had to hear that conversation. I stood there and said nothing, did nothing, as I listened to you tell your best friend that no, you hadn't gone soft, no, you weren't insane, but you were just in it for the sex. You just wanted an easy...

I squeeze my eyes shut so tightly that I feel a slight headache, and I wince, the corners of my eyes twitching. You notice this, and the hand in my hair comes to my face, cold, slender fingers stroking my flushed tan cheek tenderly. You want to know what's wrong with me, why am I so tense, why am I acting like this? I can only shake my head and swallow my words, forcing the confrontation back for who-knows-how-much-longer. The words that slide back down my throat are angry and bitter and bitingly acidic, burning a trail down to my stomach, where the settle. I will throw up tomorrow morning, I know, just from the memory of their putrid taste.

You whisper _that_ to me, and you gently - gently! Ha! - kiss my forehead, and, before I know it, you are gone, off in your own little world. I shift slightly, knowing that it will not wake you, and I turn my back to you, my eyes leaking tears. Every time you say it, and I want to believe it so badly, but I can't, because it's a lie, all a lie...

Every time you say those words.

_"I love you."_

**-:-:-:-**

_That was...unexpected, to say the least. Wow. Angstangstangstangst. Make of it what you will._

_Review, please, and make my day a whole lot brighter._

_Ceriadara_


	6. Chocolate Chip Cookie Dough

**VI: Chocolate Chip Cookie Dough**

_By: Ceriadara_

**-:-:-:-**

Rei sat in the cool bathtub in the downstairs bathroom of Takao's dojo with a pillow and a red flannel blanket, swimming in used tissues and torn pages of a tabloid magazine. A cell phone lay, blinking, at the bottom of the toilet. It had been a rather expensive model, but at the moment Rei couldn't really bring himself to care.

He knew without looking in the mirror that his eyes were red and puffy, his hair half-loose and in a mess without his bind or bandana, his skin more pallid than usual, and his posture slightly stooped. He was a wreck, and once again, he couldn't really bring himself to care.

How could he do this to him? He promised..._promised..._

He bit back a sob as the tears began again. Dammit! Why couldn't he stop crying?!

It was hard to believe that only an hour ago, he had been content with his life, happy with who he was and who he loved. That, however, had all changed with a simple trip to the supermarket. He had been waiting in the checkout line, scanning the tabloid headings, when one screamed out at him, "**_'BLADER CAUGHT IN GAY RELATIONSHIP". _**He was fool enough to panic and think that they had been discovered. He snatched the tabloid off the shelf and flipped open to the indicated page, only to find -

Him...and Michael. Not Rei...but _Michael._

He had dropped the groceries and run back to the (thankfully) empty dojo, attempting to hold back his tears until he could be behind closed doors. He had collapsed in the upstairs bathroom and vomited into the toilet violently before staggering to his room. He had snatched up a pair of boxers (black silk, so definitely not his own, but he didn't care right now) and a white undershirt and changed, before throwing himself on his bed and breaking down.

Just as he had begun to calm again, his cell phone broke into his silence with a ringtone - his ringtone.

_I can't take this right now, dammit._

But then again, he always played the fool.

He answered.

"Hello?"

_"Oh, hey! I'd hoped I'd catch you."_

How could the bastard talk to him like this?!

_"So what do you say to a movie and dinner?"_

"I'll give you my answer after you answer my question. What the hell is going on between you and Michael?"

_"...It's...nothing."_

"That picture didn't look like nothing."

_"Look, you know tabloids! They probably did some manipulation crap, it's not like - "_

"Um, hello? Lee, babe, are you talking to someone?"

Rei froze. His eyes dialated, his fangs peeking out. "Manipulation crap my ass, Lee. Go and enjoy your new toy."

He grabbed a pillow, blanket, tissue box, and tabloid, storming away to someplace where no one would think to look for him: the downstairs bathroom. No sooner had he closed and locked the door, however, than his cell phone vibrated in his hands. Fool that he was, he picked up again.

"What?"

_"Look, we're sharing an apartment because the rents are outrageous, it's not what you think, Rei!"_

"Uh-huh."

_"Look, I don't get why you're so mad!" _His voice was heating up_. "I mean, it's not like we were official anything! I never said that I lo-"_

Rei slammed his phone shut and threw it against the wall, where it ricocheted into the toilet. He collapsed into the bathtub, pulling the blanket around him and tearing the tabloid article to shreds with shaking hands.

A loud bang knocked him out of his musings. He lifted his head just in time to see the door open. He could have sworn he locked it...but no time for such thoughts...

"Rei...what the hell are you doing in here?"

Wine-colored eyes traveled from the cell-phone in the toilet to the spent tissues to the torn-up remains of the tabloid to the boy sitting in the bathtub. He sighed.

"Rei..."

"Just...please, Kai. Just leave me be."

Kai raised an eyebrow. "What, with those razors? I don't think so."

He sat on the edge of the tub, eyes fixed on the Chinese teen. "What happened?"

Rei handed Kai the table of contents from the tabloid. Brow furrowed, Kai scanned the page to see what could have possibly upset him so much - Ah. There it was.

"Is it true?"

"Yes...for once."

"..."

Rei's shoulders began to shake.

"I'll be back," Kai said quietly, standing up. He left, closing the door quietly behind him, leaving Rei to his tissues.

**-:-:-:-**

A soft knock on the door once again alerted Rei to someone's presence. "Kai?"

"Yes."

"You can come in," he said quietly, sinking back even further into the pillows. Kai entered, bearing a plastic grocery bag. Rei looked at him, eyebrow raised.

"I...called Yuri. He...advised me. I'm not too good at this whole 'comforting' thing," Kai sighed. "But...I'll do what I can."

Rei blinked at him. Had he just...?

Kai reached into the bag and pulled out a large carton of ice cream. "I hope you like the flavor," he muttered as he handed it to Rei. "It was all the had at the supermarket."

Rei glanced at the label and smiled slightly. "It's my favorite."

Kai looked almost relieved. Almost.

"Here," he said, handing him a spoon.

Rei pried open the carton of ice cream and stuck the spoon in, lapping up the sugary frozen milk quickly. "Kai?" he asked, after a few more spoonfuls.

"Mm?"

"Have you ever...had ice cream?"

"...Not really. I had some cheap stuff once from a vendor in New York, but it tasted like cardboard, so..."

Rei smiled. "Here," he said, loading the spoon and offering it to his captain, who shook his head.

"No, Rei, I couldn't - "

Rei ignored him, sticking the spoon in his mouth, effectively silencing his protest. He slowly removed it, watching Kai's carefully neutral expression. He looked at the tiger, wine-colored eyes gleaming. "It was...good."

Rei smiled.

"You have something," Kai said, pointed to a spot at the corner of Rei's mouth. He felt at it with his finger, and Kai shook his head. "No," he said, leaning in.

"Here," he said, tenderly kissing the corner of Rei's mouth. "And here," he whispered before gently placing his lips on Rei's.

Rei felt like he had touched pure bliss, nothing like when he kissed Lee. There, he had felt lusted after, wanted, and...almost unfelt-for. Here, he felt secure, safe and...

_Loved._

He smiled as Kai pulled away.

_Thank you, Yuri..._

_Chcolate chip cookie dough really does solve everything._

**-:-:-:-**

_Dedicated to Arinsen, who suggested it hell-knows-how long back...sorry it took me this long...I couldn't get any ideas written down before they went "Spoof!" and vanished on me -.-_

_So yeah. She asked for a KaRe with mild LeRe in the beginning. Sorry for the extra pairing, but hey, I needed to break Rei's heart, have patience. (Heh.)_

_I apologize for the rather clunky and all-together out-of-sorts feel. I was kind of disjointed when writing this - I've taken a break for a while, and it's kinda hard getting back in the feel of this story...but I had fun nonetheless. Hope you like it, Arinsen!_


	7. Watching You

**VII: Watching You**

_By: Ceriadara_

**-:-:-:-**

I watched you.

I watched you as you smiled, your face lighting up, flashing white teeth to the world. Your eyes were like little suns, or golden flowers - they lit up the world. When you laughed, the world went silent so it would be able to listen.

I watched you as you flushed and giggled, playing with the hem of your shirt. You always do that when you're nervous, you know - you also bite your fingernails and tear at your bottom lip with your teeth when you think no one is looking.

I watched you as you flinched away from the water as the glass dropped and shattered on the bar. Amid the profuse apologies spilling from the gaping hole of that Japanese monster's mouth, you smiled softly and shook your head.

I watched as you blushed deeply, eyes widening ever-so-slightly, as _his_ hand brushed yours. You bit your lip timidly, and I could just imagine you glancing up at him from beneath your eyelashes, laughing breathlessly.

I watched as he almost-smiled in return, taking a firmer grip on your slender fingers. I saw your chest heave as you took a shocked breath, and I imagined the look on your face - a mixture of anxiety, shock, and fear, I was sure.

I watched as he leaned in closer to you so that his mouth brushed up gently against yours. I watched as you responded, hesitantly and clumsily, and never before had I wished so badly that I could be him than at that moment.

I watched as the room filled with whistles, clapping, and laughter. You were looking at your feet, biting your lip yet again to hold back your smile, blushing. I knew what you were thinking, then: _Is he for real?_

I watched your look of disbelief gradually change into one of relief as he wrapped an arm around your slender waist and pulled you close, brushing his lips against your forehead. _He is for real._

I watched you - and I cried.

**-:-:-:-**

_A/N Ehm. I have no idea. Blame chocolate ice cream?_

_Yeah._

_Angst._

_:P_

_Much love,_

_Management_

_P.S. Don't forget to send in ideas! Things like this chapter are what happen when you don't. The plotbunnies are taking over my miiiind._


End file.
